Luck's Flight
by gomenasai-for-everything
Summary: Sequel to Fate's Game. Luxord gets the chance his game with all the other members of the Organization, trying the entirety of the time to change a future he already knows is set in stone, ultimately leading up to his final confrontation with Sora.
Luxord had known that Roxas would tell the others about the "game" they'd played; he hadn't known that any of them would care enough to come visit him about it, though he'd expected some would. Marluxia had been one of the more likely visitors, given that Larxene had likely spoken to him as well, but still not a certainty, and he most definitely had not expected the man to show up the very evening after the original game had been played. Still, he was not the sort to be an ungracious host, so he simply smiled politely.

"Marluxia, how unexpected! Come for a game, have you?" Marluxia offered a smile of his own in turn, pretty as a painting, vicious streak aptly hidden in the petal curve of his lips. If only they yet lived among humans, Luxord knew well enough that Marluxia could cause many to bend to him as easily as his flowers, though he wasn't certain if Marluxia himself knew that.

It was a funny thing, in a way; Marluxia sought power above all else, and with humans, he could have that in spades if only he pretended to feel for them. Still, out of all of them, Marluxia was one of the worst at faking emotion. He was civil, yes, kind enough when he had to be, but if one knew where to look, there was a lingering blankness to his eyes, a sharp, plastic edge to his smile. Every Nobody but him, it seemed, had chosen something to cling to, some lingering trace of strong emotion they could remember from a life no longer their own, even if it was only aloofness.

Marluxia, though, Marluxia didn't bother to hide his emptiness. It was almost admirable, were it not for the fact that that was just another sort of defense, same as the clinging the rest of them did; he simply clung to an empty vessel, a pretty face, instead of a feeling. Perhaps he thought the power he sought, the sight of others falling and suffering, would offer him some sort of fulfillment. In the back of his mind, Luxord caught a glimpse of him falling into deep shadows, the black of nothingness, wild animal snarl curling his lips as he faded, reaching for something that he, that none of them, could ever touch. Early in his time in the Organization, he'd flinched away from the futures he saw, showed everyone that he'd seen something. Now, he didn't react. It wasn't the first time he'd seen one of his comrades die.

"Let's not beat around the bush, Ten; I know well enough that neither of us are too fond of formalities. Larxene mentioned that you seemed to know things you shouldn't last night. May I come in?" Luxord stepped aside, closing the door behind him as Marluxia stepped inside. The room really was quite a mess, cards and boots and cloaks scattered all across the floor. He remembered a man that wore his face, laughing in the middle a similarly messy room as someone who must've been a friend stood beside him and shook his head, fighting a grin. He couldn't remember either of their names.

"Quite true. In any case, I presume you mean to discuss my knowledge of your, shall we say… machinations, in regards to Castle Oblivion, correct?" The plastic smile faded from his face, left him blank and dead as a statue again as he nodded.

"I do indeed. More I mean to discuss how you came to know of them, and what you plan to do." Luxord shrugged, settling at his desk again and chuckling quietly.

"I know much, but I mean to do nothing about it. After all, what purpose would I find in telling anyone? I know my place well enough, and it's the same whether you're at the head or the Superior is. Still, I expect you'd like a more certain deal than that, yes?"

"And what is it you have in mind? Some payment for your silence?"

"In a sense. Play a game with me, the same Larxene played. You'll lose nothing, but gain the assurance you desire."

"Don't treat me like a fool. I know you well enough to know that you don't play games you don't stand to win something from." Luxord laughed, and wished that munny were the only thing at stake.

"Only my own piece of mind, I swear, and I'm sure that you also know well enough that of all I am, I am not a liar." He had seen his comrades die before. He had even seen Marluxia specifically die before. This time, though, he hadn't seen him live, and though he knew how little chance there was of changing events already set in stone, he couldn't resist the need to try, even in so small a way. Marluxia's hands twitched, but he wouldn't try to fight; that was precisely the sort of attention he didn't wish to draw, after all, and though Luxord wasn't precisely fond of fighting, most knew that he was more than capable of defending himself.

"Alright. Playing along with your games seems a small enough price to pay." Luxord hummed, opening his desk drawer and drawing the deck, shuffling it quickly and deftly. When Marluxia drew, the card in his hand was painfully unsurprising.

"Justice reversed. You've been dishonest, both to yourself and others, and you refuse to accept the hand you've been dealt, that which is, simply because it seems unfair. You blame others for things you've caused yourself." Marluxia didn't bother reacting beyond another quiet, full smile, sharp teeth safely hidden as he passed the card back to Luxord. "Try to think of what you plan. I'd just as soon as not see you fail." Marluxia laughed, very loudly; Luxord thought of church bells.

"I will not be caught," he said, firm and certain, and Luxord clenched his fists, wishing that telling him that he already was would make even the faintest difference. Marluxia was the worst sort of rebel, though; he truly believed that what he did was for the best, that he would be better able to regain them their hearts, that he was right. He'd go through with his plot even if the Superior himself confronted him about it. Marluxia closed the door behind him when he left, quiet and polite, and Luxord tucked his cards away again.

* * *

It rarely struck Luxord how much of a child Zexion truly was. He played the part of the cold scientist well, and no one would deny that he lacked intelligence, but his incessant curiosity, his desperation for the Organization to work together, the gentle way he'd handled Roxas when he joined the Organization, the way he laughed and joked and teased when in certain company… all of it suggested more a child than a stiff-necked researcher. That aspect of him, though, the childish part he could not suppress, easily explained his presence at Luxord's door later the next week, though. So too did it explain, equally clearly, Lexaeus' presence behind him. The man had something of a soft-spot for Zexion, after all, a certain protective, big-brotherly instinct he likely couldn't deny.

They were kind with each other, kinder than most, more innocent than most, and for a moment Luxord couldn't block out the sight of Lexaeus' weapon falling to the ground as darkness began to envelop him, the quiet strength he never lost as he apologized to Zexion, as he faded. Zexion would be hurt, but then, not long after, Zexion would find himself against a wall, already injured and barely standing, and with betrayal in his voice he would ask Axel what he thought he was saying to the Riku replica, he would have the last of his life drained, and Axel would mumble, "you just found out way too much." He'd be cold like the assassin he was instead of the friend he'd seemed because his own doubts weren't enough to make him deny a bond with Saix he'd known only in another life. Luxord swallowed, polite smile once more fixed upon his face.

"Nice to see you, gentlemen. Might I ask what's brought you hear?" Zexion crossed his arms loosely across his chest, thin smile on his face as he leaned against the doorframe. He was in a pleasant mood. Lexaeus, too, seemed as close to happy as he ever was, the stone of his face softened to smooth marble.

"I've heard stories about a new game you've begun to play; I thought it might be interesting to try it for myself. Lexaeus was curious as well, when I mentioned it to him." Curiosity, of course, nothing more than curiosity, and wasn't that always the case with Zexion? And always with Lexaeus just behind him, loyal and honest as everything. They didn't deserve to die, but fate had little care for shadows and luck was a fickle lady.

"Of course; come in, I'll shuffle the cards for you."

"Thank you," Zexion said, voice light. They entered quietly, as they did most things, and Luxord shuffled his cards again, thinking of all the cards that could be better than the ones they'd draw, all the hands that could lead them to life if they simply weren't who they were. Neither of them were innocent, none of them were, Luxord knew that, but fate's champion was far from innocent too, and even if he were not, innocence was a fleeting thing. If nothing else he wished he could know why things had to be the way they would be, but if he was on the bottom rung in the Organization, then he was well belowground in the games fate played. Funny how it was simpler to admit that there was nothing he could do about his own death than it was to admit that there was nothing he could do about anyone else's either. Not this time, at least. He held the cards out. Lexaeus drew first, perhaps to check for some sort of trap, and Luxord barely glanced at it before he spoke.

"The hierophant, upright. Your strongest beliefs lie in tradition, in how things are and have been. You are loyal to the past, and to those who share your wish to keep it. You will not bend, even if the refusal breaks you." Lexaeus said nothing. Luxord didn't expect him to. He also didn't doubt that the man understood what he meant, at least in a vague sort of sense, and from the scrunched expression marring Zexion's face for the barest of moments, he had some idea as well. Lexaeus, though, would never deny the cause of keeping the Organization strong and bound together, the cause Zexion shared, not even if it meant his death. That, he would think, would be something worth dying for, and even if Zexion tried to suggest otherwise, he wouldn't listen. Lexaeus passed the card back, and Luxord shuffled it back into the deck, though he knew how little it would matter as Zexion drew his own card.

"These are very intricate," he said, looking the card over closely, "you'll have to tell me where you got them. I'd be interested in looking over a set myself."

"I won them off an old woman in Port Royal; I don't doubt you'd find many other decks like this one floating around that city. That particular card is called the lovers, reversed. You'll soon face much disharmony, and a rather… severe misalignment of values. You know what you stand for, but please try to remember that others don't stand for the same things. Now isn't the time to trust everyone implicitly." Lexaeus gripped the smaller man's shoulder firmly, and Zexion hummed to himself, looking over the card one last time before he returned it to Luxord.

"I'll keep that in mind," he said, careful, measured, and he was just a child, certainly not much older than Roxas himself. Lexaeus would try to protect him, but there were some fights he couldn't refuse and without him, Zexion would be alone in the castle. Luxord patted them both on the back as they left the room. Before Castle Oblivion, he would have one last party, he decided, would spend one last night with the Organization as the family it pretended to be before it fell apart like the house of cards it had really always been.

* * *

Luxord could admit that he didn't always like Vexen; he was brilliant, certainly, but he was also cold, often something of a coward, exceptionally proud, and tended towards condescension. Still, he didn't actively dislike him either, not really, and he wasn't particularly surprised by his appearance the afternoon after Lexaeus and Zexion had come. The three of them nearly lived in the lab together, after all, and he knew Zexion well enough to know that he'd have spoken about their visit and likely incited Vexen's own curiosity.

"Number Ten," he said, as if Luxord were the one at his door instead of the other way around, but Luxord smiled anyway and forced himself not to see the other Nobody's face as the same mask of fear he would wear when Axel crowded him against a fence, fingers already sparking in the moments before he snapped them.

"Always nice to get a visit from one so far up the ladder; to what do I owe the honor?" He held his chin high, his neck stiff, and his lips drawn, but his eyes flickered to either side, as if he feared someone passing by.

"Zexion mentioned an interesting card trick you've taken to performing. I was interested in seeing it myself." Luxord nodded, letting him in and shutting the door once more. Vexen moved stiffly, as he always did, body so tight that he looked as if he'd shatter if someone struck him once, though Luxord knew that wasn't the case. He'd seen him more relaxed only a handful of times, and every time he saw it, he couldn't hold back the thought that the man patiently explaining an experiment to Zexion, the man discussing his research with well-deserved pride, the man helping Roxas learn the art of reconnaissance no matter how frustrating it became, was a man he'd have liked to know better than he did. Perhaps the other scientists, the other founding members, saw that side of him more often, and that was why they never seemed to take issue with the condescension, or at least not as much as the rest of the Organization.

"Certainly; just let me fetch my cards and get them shuffled," he said, and Vexen settled on the edge of his bed, leaning forward to draw when Luxord finished with the cards and held them out. He, like Zexion, examined it closely before he showed it to Luxord. "The emperor, reversed. You're rigid and inflexible, and so unwilling to relinquish control to those higher than yourself that you'll do things you'd rather not do just to avoid conflict or conversation with someone stronger. Simply be careful; similarly to what I told Lexaeus, the most rigid people are the ones most likely to crack. It'd be better if you found a few places to bend instead." He frowned, and Luxord could see the offense, faint anger, dancing in the icy blue of his eyes before they froze again.

"Reshuffle them. I'd like to draw again." Luxord didn't argue, didn't tell him that no matter how many times he shuffled and how many times Vexen drew, he'd always get the same card. The sentiment was proven quickly enough without words, after all, and Vexen's brow furrowed, arms crossing tightly over his chest. "How are you doing that?"

"I'm doing nothing; luck alone guides your hand. Here, shuffle them yourself and draw if you doubt me." Luxord passed him the cards, watching as he did as suggested, over and over, and each time, the reversed emperor appeared in his hands.

"You draw. I'd like to see if this is universal." Once more, Luxord didn't complain, no matter how many times the reversed wheel of fortune appeared in his hands and no matter how deeply he was growing to despise the card. Luck had always guided him, always dealt him winning hands. Why now, when it mattered most, had his luck abandoned him? Life was a game, he know, but was it truly so incomprehensible that one like he, one like any member of the Organization, could win in the end? He'd never been fond of rigged games; there was little excitement, after all, little meaning, in playing with a stacked deck.

Vexen just sat there, studying the cards as if his life depended on them, and Luxord didn't laugh even as he realized how much it really did. He remembered someone telling the Other him once that his life would ultimately come down to a bad hand. He wondered if she'd been a fortune teller.

"You can get a set of your own in Port Royal, if Zexion didn't mention as much. You know I've a bit of power over luck, though, so I doubt any others you get that haven't been around me much will work quite so well." Vexen only grunted, distracted and almost certainly not listening, and Luxord sighed as the scientist slid a small notebook from an inner pocket of his cloak and set to scribbling in it. At least, Luxord supposed, he'd have company for the remainder of the day. Besides, given the loose line of Vexen's shoulders and the unusual way he hunched over his work, it might've been as good a time as any to get to know the understanding man normally hidden behind the frozen scientist's shield before he was lost like all the others.

Luxord had his party the next week, and for once, the castle was filled with noise and celebration and pleasant conversation. No one fought, not even those who would be killing one another with the passage of a few simple days. No one knew why he'd chosen to have that get-together then, but still some knew that soon, nothing would be the same. As the party died down, he caught sight of Roxas hugging Axel once, firmly enough that it had to ache, and Axel's expression cracked. His card was wavering; there was a chance that it would turn upright, that his empty death would become a sacrifice instead, but it would come too late to save anyone else. He laughed to himself as he stared up at the Grey Area's ceiling and guessed he should've been grateful that fate granted death even that little trace of destiny when the fool already monopolized so very much of it.

* * *

When Luxord heard of the critical failure at Castle Oblivion, he'd almost resigned himself to no others coming for him to read their cards, but that afternoon, not long after his mission in Wonderland, Xaldin came to his door, aloof and strong as ever.

"Xigbar couldn't seem to stop mentioning how accurately you'd predicted Larxene's involvement in the mess at C.O., and her ultimate fate; apparently he asked Roxas of the fortunes he missed after he had to leave that evening. He seems rather… concerned. Or as concerned as he ever is, I suppose. He suggested that perhaps it would be wise for me to come by and see what you told me, as he seemed to think that his own fortune was not precisely… fortuitous, either." He kept his voice level and smooth; he was a simple sort of man to listen to, however distant he could be. Still, Luxord didn't want to listen, then. Larxene had died in denial, had tried to fight it, had resisted with all her will, but beings of darkness can't fight the power of that which brought them into being.

"Come in," he said, despite that, because beyond Axel, everyone who'd gone to Castle Oblivion was already lost, and there was nothing that could be done about that. There could still be a chance for everyone else, though, a chance to force his card to turn upright again, no matter how he knew, in the deepest parts of his mind, that every piece necessary for the Organization's fall was already in motion. He shuffled in silence, this time, Xaldin's eyes watching his every motion with hawk-like intensity, as if he'd somehow cheat a game he had no idea how to cheat.

He drew slowly, thoughtfully, like Lexaeus had so long before, and looked at the card quietly for a while before he turned it to show it to Luxord.

"It's quite beautiful. I'd almost forgotten what proper art looked like after spending so long in that Beast's wretched castle. Were it not for the potential of that curse, I'd never step foot there again." Luxord nodded, taking the card back lightly and slipping it once more into the deck.

"That one is the empress, reversed. You're placing too much focus on the emotions of others rather than your own self-interest. You've always been a force of nature, and you rely on that now to keep you safe, but there are other forces of nature too, and I've found that those with hearts can fight with a mad kind of strength when the situation calls for it." Xaldin laughed quietly to himself, shaking his head, and Luxord nearly wanted to beg him to listen even though he knew there was little chance of it.

"It really is just tripe, then; I assure you I have no care for the feelings of others, and those with hearts are always tied to something. They are weak; whatever strength they have is as fleeting as the bonds they form." He spoke with the bitter certainty of one who would never admit that they were wrong. Luxord chose not to bother trying, instead just watching as Xaldin left, likely going back to the Beast's castle again. He had precious little time before he'd battle the fool on the bridge, before his wicked winds would fade to a breeze and the agony of his wounds would overwhelm his strength.

Demyx would be the first of those that were left to pass, shocked and screaming and afraid, only once willing to play the heartless he didn't think he was in an attempt to drag Roxas out of Sora again, but Xaldin would be too lost in his errand at the Beast's castle to hear of it, and few others would even bother to care. Not long after, Axel would give his life for Sora, for a chance to see Roxas again, one last chance to feel as if he had a heart, and then the rest of them would have hardly a moment to prepare for the key in their own chests.

He shook his head to clear the thoughts; there was no point in dwelling, not truly. He'd told Roxas himself that they could not fight fate. He knew the outcome this time, and he would place no bets on their victory. He started shuffling a deck of regular playing cards instead, the feeling soothing in a way that little else was. Two more chances. He almost wished that his Somebody had been a praying sort of man, so he could've known at least one to try to beg that at least one of those chances would slow the coming end. Still his mind whispered that all of it was still in vain, and he squeezed his eyes shut. One way or another, at least, it would all end soon.

* * *

The night after Axel made his "miraculous" return from Castle Oblivion, Saix found his way to Luxord's door. Luxord was unsurprised again; Saix and Axel had been friends in their other life, had known one another better than perhaps anyone else had known either of them. They'd both changed, though, Axel drifting, loyalties fading, while Saix focused so steadfastly on regaining his heart that he forgot why he wanted it back at all. It was a bitter story; it was all one long, bitter story, one cruel joke after the next, and Saix would end it staring up at Kingdom Hearts and begging for an answer it would never, could never, offer him.

"Lovely to see you this evening," he said, and Saix only nodded, shouldering his way lightly inside. It really was a talent, Luxord thought, to manage that without seeming anything other than calm and collected, but it was an art Saix had long since perfected. There was still a storm under the surface, though, brewing more violently with every passing hour, and Luxord wondered how bright the moon outside had become.

"And you," he said, but his tone was flat and careless. "I'd like to see your card trick. I admit I'm concerned about some of the events that have happened of late, and I suspect you may have insight." Luxord could've howled with laughter, then, but didn't. He already knew that his "insight" likely wasn't what Saix would really want to hear, after all, and he didn't think that laughing would make it any better. He shuffled the cards in silence, and when Saix drew his, he wanted to close his eyes.

"The chariot, reversed," he said instead, taking it back as quickly as he'd given it. "You've lost control over yourself, and lost direction in your life. You're doubting, and you're aggressive. You don't know where to focus any of it because you're suspicious of everyone and you don't know who, if anyone, will really help you." He was too blunt and he knew it the moment he spoke, but all the past months, all the death and the ignored advice and the pressure of fate on his back had crushed him. He was a pawn in everyone's games and he was sick of all of it. At that moment, it seemed that the only way to deal with it was to make everyone else sick of it too.

"You speak very freely, ten," Saix bit, voice chilly, and Luxord only shook his head.

"I speak truthfully. You've never trusted the Superior and you don't trust Axel anymore so you haven't the faintest idea who can actually help you get your heart back. Just listen to me; Sora has destiny on his side, and we're rather low on that. If you want to get your heart back, those of us who are left must be saved and we must be kept here in the castle. Try to… Roxas will try to leave soon, to find Sora. Don't let him. He is the ending, and the beginning; the last piece Sora will need to end us all. Keep him here, and perhaps we'll find some destiny of our own." Saix breathed deeply, and Luxord could almost see him forcing the raging waters inside of him back to placidity.

"Perhaps you're right," he said, and Luxord let out a heavy breath of air he hadn't known that he was holding. If he'd been human, he imagined he might have cried. He ignored the lingering pang of wrongness as Saix stood, holding out a hand for him to shake. "I'll speak with the Superior. We'll do what must be done." Luxord shook his hand numbly and watched him leave, realizing only upon his absence that he hadn't actually known why Roxas ultimately chose to leave the Organization in every future he saw.

He didn't understand until a few weeks later, when Roxas was gone and Saix was severely injured after trying to stop him. He'd taken his advice, yes, but he'd taken it too far; Xion had begun draining Roxas' strength, living up to her card quite well, and after Luxord had called the boy the last piece Sora needed… Saix had thought it best to pit them against one another and kill him. Because of that, he had discovered everything that had been kept from him, everything _Axel_ had known but never told him, and he'd fled.

For the first time, Luxord had been the hand of fate rather than the hand of luck, and he could do nothing but clutch his head with shaking hands as the reports of Sora's activities began to filter in about a month later. Saix abandoned their other chance, what he'd said about keeping them all in the castle, fighting together, and soon the death reports started to appear as well. Every evening, he drew a card himself, hoping for a change, and every night, the reversed wheel of fortune stared back at him blankly.

* * *

Xemnas only called for him when Sora was already in the castle, and Luxord didn't bother to bring his cards because no matter how much he wished otherwise, he already knew what card the man would draw.

"You will be posted at the balcony overlooking havoc's divide. Number Seven will be on the level above you, while I remain here. If all goes well, he will not reach you, but I'd suggest preparedness." Of course he would, now; he was the magician reversed, after all, the master of manipulation, of the poor planning that had led them this far, the power and skill that never seemed to be put to the right use. Getting them a heart had never been his plan, and at that moment, Luxord knew that as clearly as he knew how little purpose a fight between them would serve. "Do you understand, Number Ten?"

All the pieces were in place for the end, and the fool was set to give rise to a new beginning. Fate had shown his hand, and lady luck had flown long before. The game was already over. Luxord nodded.

"Yes, Superior." Yes, the ending was already written, but Luxord wasn't the sort to make victory simple for anyone, even if that victory was certain. He'd go all in, and when his game ended, he would make sure it ended with a bang.


End file.
